Runner Guy and Park Ranger Guy
by ytteb
Summary: Tony likes to run - a story about why and about what happens when he does. No pairings. Mentions of the team. Now complete.
1. Chapter 1

Runner guy

One of the problems with growing up rich is that it gets you used to a certain lifestyle. I can almost hear McGee's eyes rolling if I said that out loud. OK: I know eyes rolling don't actually make a noise but you get the idea. And I'm not talking about good food, nice clothes, exotic holidays and servants 'cos I really really try not to talk (or think) about things like that. I'm not a masochist, or do I mean sadist? Anyway, to avoid being like Ducky, I'll stick to the point which is that I grew up with a certain way of life which is difficult to maintain on a US government salary. Don't worry, this isn't a confession that I've accepted bribes or backhanders. I'm not even sure I've ever been offered one. Perhaps it's because I look so obviously honest and incorruptible? Or maybe I look such a schmuck that crooks don't think I have anything worth corrupting? I'll leave it to you to decide.

Anyway, for whatever reason, I'm relying on my government salary to provide the basics. OK, there is 'family' money lying around but I keep quiet about it. You know my father so you know why.

Oops, turns out that I'm more like Ducky than I thought. Right: one of the things I was used to when I was growing up was lots of space. Our house in the Hamptons was massive and had 'expansive' grounds. The boarding schools I went to all had huge grounds and school in Columbus wasn't exactly cramped. So, though I don't shout about it, I like the outdoors. I'll admit I'm not into wildlife and tracking animal spoors like a certain NCIS special agent who sits a few yards from me but that doesn't mean that I don't appreciate being surrounded by greenery and a few trees. Throw in a stretch of water, some bushes and animal life and I'm happy. I might not be able to tell you what the shrubby things or wild animals are but I'm glad they're around. Although I don't need to explain myself to you, but it's sort of a habit, thinking aloud. I wonder if that's how Ducky started? Perhaps I'll ask him one day. When I have time to spare. A lot of time.

So, whenever I've moved house I've tried to choose somewhere near some green space. Obviously I can't afford my _own_ green space: police salaries don't run to those any more than government ones but you get the idea. I like my apartment in DC but what really sold it to me was the park just round the corner. It's a good one, has a trail along the Potomac and I can really lose myself there. Not literally lose myself, of course: I'm a trained federal agent and federal agents don't get lost. Or if they do they don't stay on Leroy Jethro Gibbs' team for long. No, I get lost in another way.

Years of playing sports got me in the habit of taking exercise and I've always liked to run. I'm a pretty social sort of guy but I can cope with my own company so that's why running alone suits me. My esteemed co-workers will tell you I like to run because, now my metabolism has reached middle age, I put on weight more easily. I can't comment on that. Except that they're right. But that's not the only reason I run. Or because I have to meet the NCIS fitness criteria. Although I do. No, running is part of what I am and it keeps me sane. Don't laugh. Or roll your eyes: don't forget I'll hear them spin.

Running gets rid of my pent up energy although there's less of that than there used to be. It also gets rid of my pent up 'emotional' energy but I won't admit that to my co-workers either. The cases we deal with are sometimes boring, often frustrating and frequently tragic. I sometimes wish I had a job where I could prevent bad things happening rather than having to turn up in the wake of a disaster and try to sort things out. I get that revenge and retribution can be satisfying but I can't help but think it would be better if they were never needed. Perhaps I should have gone into teaching instead.

Anyway, most days I run when I get home from work if Gibbs lets us go while there's still daylight. And I run before work unless we get a call in the middle of the night. I run at weekends too if we have one off. You'll have guessed that I don't get to run as often as I want to! Over the years I've run in the local park a few thousand times and I have certain routes depending on the time of year and how much energy I have to burn up and how many ghosts and accusing voices I have to beat into submission, consign to silence.

There are people I meet in the park: not to speak to but to give that joggers' nod to. A real athlete doesn't stop to chat, doesn't break up the carefully planned schedule. Unless it's a pretty girl - sorry, woman. But you'll have guessed that I don't have a regimented timetable, I run when I can and that means I don't meet the same people all the time. That doesn't matter, I don't run to boost my social calendar but there is one guy I see most days – Park Ranger guy.

Park Ranger guy has been there pretty much as long as I've been running in the park. He cuts the grass, picks up garbage, speaks to visitors. Well, he does the park ranger sort of stuff. And he always looks happy, content. And I give him the joggers' nod as well and he nods back gravely. He's usually around, not in a creepy stalkery sort of way but in a 'this is a great place, where else would I be' sort of way. And, don't laugh or do that thing with the eyes, but it makes me feel safe, welcome. Like I said, the park is a great place to be. But I sort of wish I hadn't come today.

Park Ranger guy

When I was eight years old my dad died. Money was short so my mom had to move us to an apartment block. It wasn't much but she paid a few dollars extra in rent because there was a park across the road. She figured that if she couldn't afford a place with a yard one with a park right opposite was the next best thing. My sister and I loved that place and treated it as if it really was our yard. I sometimes wonder what my career choice would have been if it hadn't been for that park but it doesn't keep me awake at night because being a park ranger is pretty much my idea of heaven.

If I'd had my way I'd have left school as soon as it was legal and got a job in a park. Mom was sensible (and firm) and said I had to go to college and get qualifications. Man, did I hate studying! All that time stuck indoors when I could have been outside but she was right. I figure it's in the DNA or a law of nature that moms are always right. Well, mine was anyway. Although, at the time, I thought that studying was a waste of time I'm glad of it now. It meant that I didn't stay at the bottom of the park ranger ladder. Not that I was ambitious; I'm happy doing the basics but going up the rungs a bit means that I get to make some decisions, have some influence. I could have gone up higher by now but I found a place I liked, that feels right to me. Sometimes people say that I should move up, move on but why should I?

I've been working in this park for over ten years now. Do you remember me saying that Louey and I treated our childhood park as if it was our yard? I guess that's how I feel about 'my' park now although I'm happy to share it with other people. I've got to know a lot of people; it makes me feel old but there are some who I knew as teenagers who bring their own children to play on the swings. I've watched trees grow, pruned bushes and encouraged wildlife and it's all been good. I like to see people coming to enjoy the place, run around and let off steam. There are plenty of kids who don't have yards of their own and I'm glad they can share mine.

I see people relaxing and shedding their worries when they come to the park and, in the end, it's things like that which make my job worthwhile. There's one guy in particular who sums up for me what it means to be a park ranger. I call him 'runner guy': he's been running here since I started work. We get lots of joggers in the park but not many seem to enjoy it unless grim faces and feet barely off the ground is a sign of pleasure but runner guy is different. The first time I saw him run past I swear my mouth must have dropped open. His feet were so bouncy I was sure he must have springs in his shoes and he looked happy, gazing round at the scenery and seeming to give it his approval. Most of our joggers can't spare the energy to appreciate their surroundings but he seemed to have enough and to spare.

Over the years he's changed, of course. He was lean and stringy when I first saw him and he's filled out now, more muscular and I guess he might get fat when he stops running. His tread is a bit heavier now and he sometimes frowns as if bad memories are chasing him. I don't know his name or what he does. It must be some odd sort of job as he's in the park at all hours of the day and sometimes he disappears for weeks at a time.

I remember a couple years after he started running that he went missing for the first time and I began to wonder if he'd moved away but then he came back but he was different. He wasn't running for a start but just walking and it looked as if that was a struggle in itself. A few weeks later he started running again but the wheezing was awful. I thought of going up and offering to help but somehow I knew that wouldn't be welcomed so I looked away although I hung around until I was sure that he wasn't going to cough up a lung. It was soon after that he started nodding to me as he ran. I think it was his way of saying thank you for letting him alone. And, of course, I nodded back. Park rangers have a nod, you know. It says 'you're welcome here but use the trash containers provided'.

For me, runner guy sums up why we need parks and why park ranger is the best job in the world. He comes in sometimes looking weighed down and weary but by the time he leaves his head is up and his eyes are clear again. I like watching him. Not in a creepy stalkery sort of way but because he makes me feel happy. Parks are healing places. Until today.

* * *

 _AN: I think there will just be one more chapter to this – but I've been wrong before._

 _And this isn't going to be slash. Just so you know._


	2. Chapter 2

Park Ranger Guy

Today runner guy came in about an hour before dusk. I wasn't worried, he knows the opening and closing times and he could probably hop over the fence if he was locked in. Not that I'd encourage that sort of thing. I carried on tidying up the play areas and collected a teddy from inside one of the funnels. I hoped there wasn't a house filled with a child's tears that night but I'd keep it safe until an anxious mom visited tomorrow. It's all part of the job.

I was just thinking about locking the main gate when I realised I hadn't heard runner guy trot past. He didn't usually cut it fine so I paused at the entrance to the play area and looked back down the path he had jogged down some time before. Like I said, I could have locked the gate and let him find his own way out but something was telling me that was a bad idea. I hesitated but then decided to go look for him. I locked the main gate before I went, no point in letting more people in and then I grabbed a flashlight from my cabin and walked in the direction he'd gone.

I'm a professional and it's difficult to switch off from observing so I couldn't help but be pleased at how the park looked as I walked along. I'd had a team of students in that day and they'd cleared a lot of the undergrowth away. They'd made a good job of it and they'd enjoyed using the sickles and scythes. They're more used to using electric equipment but their teacher thinks it's good for them to get more 'hands on' sometimes.

I know the park like the back of my hand. No, let's say I know it well, I'm not sure I'd recognise the back of my hand in a crowd. So, I know the park well so I guess I wasn't paying attention to where I was going and I suddenly found myself flying through the air. Once I'd landed, and checked that I was still in one piece, I looked round to see what had tripped me and realised that it was a rake. I didn't recognise it. I might not recognise the back of my hand but I know the park's tools and this wasn't one of them. It looked as if the students had left some of their gear behind. I stowed it to one side, it could join the teddy bear later.

I carried on walking and then, in the still of the gathering gloom, heard a moan coming from the trees.

Runner Guy

We're halfway through a case but there's nothing more we can do until tomorrow so Gibbs eventually, and grudgingly, let us go.

"Keep your phones with you," he ordered as a parting shot.

I hadn't expected to be out so early so the evening was a social vacuum but, on the bright side, it meant that I could fit a run in before it got dark. I might end up getting locked in but I've jumped over the fence before now. Obviously not conduct befitting a federal agent but when the federal agent works for Gibbs sometimes these things happen.

Park Ranger guy was there when I got there and we exchanged our usual nods before I decided to take one of my shorter routes. It goes along by the river and I like to get the smell of the water even if it was getting too dark to see any boats … sorry, ships. I tried to clear my mind of the case as I ran.

Sometimes I find that if I empty my brain (which doesn't take long according to my esteemed co-workers) an answer to a problem pops in. I guess it's something about getting rid of your assumptions and starting again. Take this case, the victim's co-worker wears a fake leather jacket and somehow that's turned me against him. It doesn't fit well either. Now, I know that neither of those things means he's an arch criminal but I don't trust him even though he's got a solid alibi. And the victim was married so there's a wife I could be suspecting instead but my mind keeps going back to that jacket. I mean it's not even a good fake. So, I wanted to run because I needed to see things differently. Gibbs has intimidated a few judges in his time but I don't think he's going to use his superpowers to get a search authorisation just because I don't like a guy's clothes. Gibbs' gut is probably saying he's above suspicion _because_ he wears cheap stuff.

So all this was going round in my brain and I might not have been concentrating fully when I saw something shiny on the ground in front of me. Something _sharp_ and shiny so I tried an athletic leap over it and somehow managed to mistime it. The next thing I knew I was tumbling down a slope. Strange, when I was a kid I loved rolling down hills especially if the grass had just been cut. It doesn't have so much appeal when you're twice as tall and more than twice the weight. Or when your somersaulting is stopped by a tree.

DiNozzos don't pass out but even they can be _knocked_ out when their head meets a solid object in an aggressive manner. That's what happened. McGee would probably say that at least I didn't get hit anywhere important. I don't think I was out for long. It takes a lot to squash a DiNozzo but I'll admit to groaning when I came round. It was a manly groan though. Not a wimpy one. And it got attention. Not the sort of attention I wanted: which would surprise my team mates who think I like any attention, something about being a narcissist. Huh!

Anyway, seconds after I groaned I groaned again as a body came tumbling down the hill. It followed the same route I had taken but avoided hitting the tree because my muscular, well-toned body (I can dream, can't I?) stopped its passage. So, like I said, I groaned again. And it was like an echo because my new companion moaned too. It was Park Ranger guy.

"Hey!" I said. And I might have sounded a bit cross. After all park rangers are meant to be there to look after people not use them as buffers as they career down hills. They might even swear an oath about it. And if they don't they should introduce one. I'm going to write to my congressman about it.

"Hey to you," said Park Ranger guy.

Life and work have equipped me to deal with most situations but I confess I was at a bit of a loss this time. My instinct was to say 'hey' again but that didn't likely to move things forward much and I was getting a bit uncomfortable squashed between a tree and a park ranger.

"What happened?" I said. Not the most brilliant opening gambit and not up to my usual dazzling standards but it had been a long day which wasn't ending very well.

"I don't know what happened to you," came the reply, "but I fell down the hill."

It's probably as well that it was pretty dark; that meant that Park Ranger guy couldn't see the glare I directed towards him.

"That's what happened to me as well," I admitted. "Someone left something that looked dangerous on the path. I swerved to avoid it and next thing I knew I was practising somersaults and getting up close and personal with a tree."

"It's an oak," said Ranger guy, " _Quercus Alba_ , to be precise. You didn't damage it, did you?"

I admit it. I groaned again.

"Hey, you're not hurt are you?" asked Ranger guy with what I feel was a somewhat delayed concern.

"No," I said with a touch of sarcasm, "I like rolling down hills and smashing into Quercus albes."

"Alba," he corrected.

"Or them," I said testily. "I thought there was a law against littering in parks."

"There is," said Ranger guy a little stiffly.

"Then who left lethal weapons lying round?" I demanded.

"Students," said my companion, "they were learning how to use sickles and scythes."

"Then they need to learn how to tidy up after themselves," I said crossly.

"They will," he said ominously, "oh, believe me, they will."

I felt a bit mollified by his reply, "Good, Chris," I said, "and if you need any help getting the lesson across, let me know. I carry a gun, you know, it's amazing how that helps people learn."

"How d'you know my name?" asked Ranger guy.

"You wear a name badge, Chris," I said, "and I have to say that Chris Parkes is a bit of a cliché for someone who works where you do."

Ranger guy ignored this in favour of another question, "why do you carry a gun, Runner guy?"

"It's my job. I'm a federal agent. And what do you mean, Runner guy?"

"That's what I call you. As you don't wear a name badge."

"Oh. OK. I'm Special Agent Tony DiNozzo. I'd shake your hand but I think I may have broken my arm. Again."

"I've had first aid training," said Chris with a slightly worrying enthusiasm, "let me see."

It turns out that DiNozzos do pass out sometimes. Usually when park rangers grab hold of our broken arms.

Park Ranger guy

On reflection it probably wasn't a good idea to reach for Runner guy, sorry, Tony's arm when I couldn't see what I was doing. It had got darker since he'd broken my fall and I was more shaken than I'd realised. Still, I should have known better and it gave me a shock when he gave this little groan and slumped against Quercus Alba. I fished in my pocket for my flash light but soon found that it had survived the fall even less well than Special Agent Runner guy. I was just considering what to do next when Tony spoke,

"Don't do that again. Ever."

I was so relieved that he was still alive that I decided to overlook the irritation in his voice. And, to be fair, he probably had a point.

"Sorry," I said.

"OK," he gasped, "you meant well. I guess." There was silence for a moment or two. I thought about pointing out that I could hear a Blackcapped Chickadee singing its going-to-bed song but decided against it. I wasn't sure that Tony was in the mood for nature study.

"This is fun," said Tony, "but my Boss won't be happy if he finds me laying down on the job. Let's get out of here." There was another of his groans and he fell back into the oak tree again. I made a mental note to come back in daylight and check it wasn't damaged.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Ankle," he hissed, "I don't think I'm making it up that hill."

"We can walk round," I suggested, "There's a pathway runs along the river. About two miles."

Tony's answering groan (and he had an impressive range) suggested what he thought of that idea.

"I'll go," I said and I reached out gently to pat him reassuringly on the shoulder. "You're freezing," I said.

"I didn't really dress for sitting outside," he said tensely.

I shrugged off my heavy jacket and held it out to him. Tony jerked back instinctively, "You're not putting that on me," he said worriedly. I realised that he had pictured me forcing his damaged arm through the sleeve. I guess I hadn't done much to make him trust me.

"No," I agreed, "here, put it round you." I had to help him but we managed in the end.

"Thanks," he said. I think he was warming to me. "Ouch," he said as I fell on him. In the awkwardness of getting to know Runner guy I hadn't noticed that _my_ ankle also felt odd. It might be a few days before I get round to checking on Quercus. "Do you want your coat back?" said Tony politely but reluctantly.

"Keep it," I said, trying to concentrate on riding out the waves of pain coming from my ankle.

"Hey," he said, "why don't we just phone for help?"

"Right," I said.

"Um," he said, "I can't reach my pocket. Wrong side for my arm. Can you get my phone out?"

I wasn't sure this was in my job description but I agreed and spent a couple of minutes getting to know him rather better than I wanted. It seemed a long time since he had just been Runner guy. And it was a waste of time. I hoped Quercus was in better shape than Tony's phone which was never going to work again.

"Have you got a phone? Or a radio?" asked Tony hopefully.

I did but it also hadn't survived the fall. I resolved to buy a sturdier one.

"Have you got a flare?" asked Tony.

"Flair for what?" I asked, "I'm good at bird identification and good at trees. But I'm not sure that's much use at the moment."

I heard Tony take a deep breath. He may even have counted to ten. "A flare," he repeated, "you know, a signal flare."

"Why would I have one of those?" I asked.

"Because you're a park ranger," he said as if it was obvious.

"In DC," I said, "not in the wilds. Why would I need a flare?"

"I thought you might have one of those utility belts," he said a little sulkily.

"I'm not Batman," I said and I admit I may have said it a little curtly. I soon relented, "though it would be cool," I said.

"I'll add it to my list of recommendations when I write to my congressman," said Tony.

"What else are you going to suggest?" I asked almost despite myself. I hadn't know the guy long and I was already getting sucked in to his way of thinking.

"I'm going to suggest that they introduce some sort of oath for park rangers," he said.

I paused to digest this but didn't have time to answer before he spoke again, "hey." I realised that I was beginning to dread him saying that. "Hey," he said, "why don't we light a fire?"

"A fire?" I exclaimed.

"Sure," he said, "To keep warm."

"A fire? In the park?"

"Why not?"

"It's against regulations," I said, "Do you know the damage a fire could cause in the park?"

"More damage that two frozen bodies might cause?" he said bitterly.

"And anyway, it's impossible," I said.

"I've got matches," he said.

I frowned at that. Why was he bringing matches to jog in the park? Perhaps he wasn't such a good guy after all. "Why do you have matches?" I asked.

"I needed some for my apartment," he said, "I bought them before I came in," he seemed to sense my distrust, "don't worry, I don't always bring them. I don't want to burn your park down."

"Hmm," I said, "but we still can't light a fire. Well, I guess we could. It _is_ an emergency."

"See," said Tony sounding happier than he had since I'd used him as a trampoline.

"But there's no point," I said.

"Why not?" The happiness began to drain away again.

"It won't stay lit. It's beginning to rain."

"Oh." The happiness had gone completely.

* * *

 _AN: the guys were too chatty and demanded another chapter!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Tiny spoiler for Season 11 episode 'Dressed to Kill'._

Runner Guy

I couldn't fault Park Ranger guy's weather forecasting. It was raining, the sort of determined solid rain that gets you wet, very wet. Not showy rain, it wasn't windy or blustery but rain that came down in lines as straight as the creases on a Marine's dress uniform pants. It was the sort of rain that Gibbs would approve of: thorough and unfussy. I sighed but then my investigative instincts kicked in.

"Shouldn't the park gates be locked by now?" I asked.

"Yeah," came the morose reply. You know, considering that Chris works in the outdoors he was unexpectedly grumpy at being outside but I decided to ignore his bad mood.

"Then someone'll notice they're still open," I said hopefully, "know there's something wrong."

"Nope," said Chris.

"But …"

"They won't notice they're open," said Park Ranger guy.

"Why not?"

"Because they're not."

"Not what?"

"They're not open."

"Why not?"

"Because I locked them at the right time," said Chris.

"Then why are you still here?" I asked.

"I locked them but then I thought I'd better see if you were all right."

"Why?"

"You're not usually late out. And it's part of the job, looking out for people. Even if I didn't swear a pledge about it."

"But why did you think I might not be OK?" I asked.

There was something like embarrassment in Chris's voice when he replied, "my gut."

"O-o-h," I said. "Hey, you didn't used to be a marine, did you?"

"No. I only ever wanted to work in a park. Why would you ask if I'd ever been a marine?"

"No reason," I said vaguely, "you just reminded me of someone. Say, thinking of significant others. Anyone waiting for you at home?"

"Why?" he asked suspiciously as if he suspected me of making a move on him.

I tried not to sound offended at being suspected of making advances to a Park Ranger and said as smoothly as possible, "Just wondered if anyone's going to sound the alarm when you don't show up at home."

"Oh," he said in a tone which suggested that was a very reasonable idea. At least I think that's what the tone meant; it's rare for someone to use that tone with me so I might have been mistaken. Add in a thumping headache and feeling as if I was going to dissolve in the rain and it might well be that I wasn't at the top of my game. "Oh," he continued, "no. My girlfriend's out of town. Nobody to notice. What about you?"

"What about me?" I asked, I was finding it difficult to concentrate.

"Anyone waiting for you?"

"No," I said. I thought that sounded a bit brusque so I added, "Although I can understand why you'd think there would be. Seems unlikely that someone like me would be on his own but that's the truth. Only temporarily, of course. Someone's just waiting to snap me up. But my Boss might notice."

"In the middle of the night?"

"Leroy Jethro Gibbs never sleeps," I said.

"You just made that up," he said. "That's not a real name."

"Oh, yes it is, my Park Ranger friend. In fact he was named after someone so there's more than one. Well, more than one Leroy Jethro. There's only one Leroy Jethro Gibbs. I think they probably threw the mould away after they made him."

"And is that a good thing?" asked Chris.

"That's an interesting question," I agreed, "and normally I'd give it some thought but I feeling a bit letharg … tired." I trailed off.

"Did you hit your head when you tripped up?" asked Chris in a worried tone. I'm pretty sure I got that one right. I hear that tone of worried exasperation all the time.

"Probably," I agreed, "I hit everything else so I don't see how my head would have missed out on the excitement."

"Did you lose consciousness?"

"When? When I hit my head on the tree or when you grabbed my broken arm?"

"I've already said sorry about that," said Chris.

"I might have done," I admitted.

"Might have done what?" asked Park Ranger guy who also seemed to be having problems following a conversation.

"I might have been knocked out," I said as slowly and clearly as I could.

"Then you shouldn't go to sleep," said Chris authoritatively. "You might have a concussion."

"I'm pretty sure I have," I said, "at least it's dark now. Bright lights are the worst thing for concussion."

"Glad something's going your way," said Chris bitterly.

My eyes had drifted shut but something in his voice made me open them again. "We'll be OK," I said, "Gibbs will find us in the morning. He may even find us before that if there's a break in the case."

"How will he find us?" asked Chris.

This was another question beyond me at the moment so I simply said, "Because he's Gibbs."

I lay there picturing Gibbs storming down the slope to our rescue. Somehow I didn't think he'd follow us and tumble down but, sometime before tomorrow, I resolved to shift position so I wasn't in the line of fire but until then I'd become almost fond of Quercus Alba. I snuggled down a bit but was then jerked back to wakefulness by Chris shaking my leg. Fortunately not the injured one but it got my attention.

"Hey!" I said. And it might have sounded peevish.

"You mustn't go to sleep," said Chris firmly.

"OK," I murmured, "but there's a flaw in your thinking."

"What?"

"If I'm dying what are you going to do about it? We're stuck here."

There was a pause before Chris said, "well, I'm not going to let you die quietly."

"Great," I groaned. Chris chuckled unsympathetically. "OK," I said, "if I've got to stay awake, answer me this. Why would anyone wear a fake leather jacket?"

Park Ranger guy

I tried to ignore the rain and also tried to forget that I had been hoping for rain tonight as the park ground was becoming too dry. I also tried to ignore the throbbing of my ankle. I was relatively successful in both of these but I wasn't able to ignore Tony's question about fake leather jackets. I tried to remember the symptoms of concussion but couldn't remember eccentric questions being one of them. I resolved always to carry a first aid manual with me in future. Perhaps I'll have to get one of those utility belts proposed by Tony; by the time I'm carrying a signal flare, first aid manual and sturdy phone I'll have run out of pockets.

"It doesn't make sense," said Tony plaintively, "why wear a plastic jacket?"

I realised that I'd drifted off as I'd begun planning where to hang things on my new belt so I snapped back to the present.

"Perhaps he's vegan," I suggested, "or vegetarian."

"Vegans don't eat jackets," said Tony firmly, "or do they?"

"No," I agreed, "but they sometimes don't want to wear animal products. It's not just eating animals that they frown on."

"Oh," said Tony. "Can vegetarians be crooks?"

"Don't see why not," I said, "it's unlikely though, isn't it? A bit like a park ranger being a murderer."

"Don't you believe it," said Tony darkly, "we had a case once where it turned out that the ranger guy was a serial killer."

"You're kidding," I said.

"I wish I was," said Tony, "hey, _you_ don't have homicidal tendencies, do you?"

"Would I have come looking for you, if I had?"

"True. But you might have set a trap for me. Lured me with your wily ways."

"How many crimes do you actually solve?" I asked doubtfully.

"More than you might think," said Tony loftily, "but I don't think you're a criminal."

"Glad to hear it," I said, "what makes you think that?"

"You always made me feel safe," he said drowsily.

"What?"

"Oops," he said, sounding a bit more alert, "did I say that out loud?"

"Yes," I said.

"It's the Park Ranger guy aura," he replied after a few minutes, "you know, kindly authority. _You're_ _welcome here but make sure you use the trash containers provided_."

I was surprised. I hadn't realised that my nod was so expressive. Perhaps Tony was more observant than I'd expected and perhaps he really did solve lots of crimes.

"I'll think about the vegetarian thing," said Tony, "don't see how it fits in but you never know. Thanks, Chris."

I found myself warming to my companion even if he was still wearing my nice cosy jacket and even if he could be annoying at times.

"D'you want your coat back?" he asked suddenly.

I looked at him suspiciously, wondering just how intuitive he was.

"Keep it," I said, "I've got a thick sweater on. And I'm wearing long pants. I think you need it more than me."

"I'm getting warm," he replied, "so you can have it back if you want."

This didn't sound too good, "Keep it on," I ordered, hoping that I was saying it in a voice compatible with Park Ranger guy aura. "You can tell your congressman about it when you write that letter."

"OK," he sighed, "if you're going to keep me awake, tell me about being a Park Ranger."

"Why? You looking for a career change?" I asked.

"Just interested," he said.

"We have Park police," I suggested.

"No. I think I'll stay put for now. Don't think Senior would approve. No offence."

"Who's Senior?"

"My father. He doesn't think much of me being a federal agent."

"Too dangerous?" I suggested.

"Oh," said Tony, "I don't think that's it. Although he was spooked when I shot a navy commander in front of him."

"What?" I asked.

"He wasn't a real one," said Tony as if this made it all right.

"Like a plastic leather jacket?" I asked.

Tony seemed pleased by this thought, "Yes. I wonder if fake leather jacket guy was just pretending to be a vegetarian."

"Or a vegan," I reminded him.

"Hmm. Anyway, Dad once said I'd end up in the gutter and I think he already thinks that I'm nearly there working in law enforcement."

"And joining Park Police would be even worse?" I asked a little coolly.

"His thoughts, not mine," said Tony, "I think it'd be great. I love old people. You get lots of old people in parks, don't you?"

"Sure," I agreed, "and kids."

"Oh," said Tony more doubtfully, "perhaps it's not for me then."

"You don't like kids?" I asked.

"I love kids," said Tony, "but they don't understand me."

I paused for a moment trying to work out the oddity of this statement but before I had unravelled it, Tony spoke again,

"Who do you think will notice something's wrong first?"

"Either Bull-dog guy or Pink Velour Tracksuit lady."

"What?"

"BDG comes to walk his dog real early," I said, "and PVTL runs past them every day."

"Wait," said Tony groggily, "you give them initials?"

"Do you know how many people visit the park every day?" I said crossly, "it speeds things up if I abbreviate them. I've got a system."

"You're not related to Tim McGee, are you?" asked Tony.

"I don't think so," I said cautiously, "why?"

"No reason," said Tony unconvincingly, "just a thought. Reminded me of someone. Your list isn't in binary, is it?"

"No," I said, "I don't even know what binary is."

"And why on earth should you?" said Tony emphatically before going on to ask, "So you think Bull-dog guy and Pink Velour Tracksuit lady are our best bet?"

"They usually get to the park first," I said, "but they've been getting later recently."

"Yeah?" said Tony in a sleepy voice.

"Yes. I think they're dating."

"Yes?" said Tony perking up a bit, "how do you know."

"BDG's bull dog is getting fatter."

"So?"

"And so's PVTL," I said.

"And?"

"So neither of them are getting as much exercise as they used to. Well, not _running_ exercise anyway. I think BDG and PVTL are spending more time on park benches now and bull dog has to lay around waiting for them."

"Wow," said Tony in an impressed voice, "I didn't realise that park rangers took such a close interest in the visitors. I'll remember that if we have any crimes in a park."

"Just part of the job," I shrugged modestly.

"Er, what did you notice about me?" asked Tony anxiously.

"That you run really well. And you look as if you enjoy it," I told him.

"That doesn't sound so bad," said Tony in a relieved voice.

"And that you must work really odd hours. Oh, and that you run to escape your demons," I continued.

There was such a long silence after this that I thought that perhaps Runner guy had fallen asleep but finally he said, "My Boss is a real hard taskmaster." I waited and then he added, "and it's a tough job. Lots of demons out there." I nodded although I realised he couldn't see it. "And I run to clear my mind," he said, "sometimes I get ideas for solving cases when I'm running."

"Like fake leather jackets?" I asked.

"Yeah. Like I said this is usually a safe place to run. I can let my mind wander. Although the Boss thinks I do that anyway."

"National Park Service aims to provide a safe environment," I said proudly.

"Good to know," said Tony. "Um, seeing that today isn't exactly going well, can I check something?"

"Sure," I said.

"Is there any poison ivy in the park?"

"Why? Are you sensitive to it?"

"Well, not me so much. But McGee. That's one of my co-workers, he breaks out if he even thinks about it."

"No, no poison ivy. And anyway McGee isn't here."

"But he will be," said Tony confidently, "he will be."

I'd had a long day and I was beginning to get tired but I knew I had to keep awake to watch over Tony.

"Tell me about your co-workers," I said.

"I've told you about Gibbs," he answered, "ex-marine, except there's no such thing. Runs a tight ship. Married four times. Building a boat in his basement. Slaps me on the head: I think that's a good thing. Mainlines coffee. Cooks steaks in his fireplace and sleeps on his couch. When grouchiness becomes an Olympic sport he's a shoo-in for a gold medal. Not that he'd turn up to collect it. He's not big on ceremonies. Or giving praise – well, not to me anyway."

"How long have you worked for him?"

"Years and years. We met when I threw him to the ground and he punched me."

"What did you do?"

"Drew my gun and arrested him."

"You feeling OK, Tony?" I asked in concern.

"I'm fine," came the prompt reply.

"What about McGee?" I asked hoping to keep us both awake.

"Ah, McGoo," he drawled, "first met the little man over a melting submariner."

"I like melted cheese subs," I agreed.

"Oh, no," he said, "not a sub roll. It was a submariner. A sailor, he'd been left in an oil drum full of acid. It wasn't a good look. McGoo was McGreen that day."

"What's his name again?" I asked a bit confused.

"McGee, McGoo, McProbie, McNerd," he recited happily, "and then there's Elflord. Thom E Gemcity. He has a plethora of …"

"Of what?"

"Don't know. I feel there should be something namey that goes with plethora but it escapes me at the moment. Ducky would know."

My concerns about his mental state grew. "Ducky?"

"Donald Mallard, our Medical Examiner."

"Donald Mallard?" I asked, "who does that to a child?"

"Good point," he said approvingly, "his mother was a bit eccentric."

"A bit?"

"A lot, I guess," he agreed.

"And these are the people we're relying on to find us?" I said disheartened.

"Absolutely," said Tony groggily but confidently, "just you wait and see. Hey."

My heart sank at yet another 'hey'. "Yes?"

"When you get that utility belt."

"What makes you think I'm getting one?" I demanded.

"Course you are," he said dismissively, "it's sensible. And besides, you said it was a cool idea."

"OK," I said, admitting defeat. Somehow I think Tony wears a lot of people down like that, "what about when I get the Batman belt?"

"Put some food in it too, I'm starving."

"I'll think about it," I said.

"And don't forget a Bat signal," he added, "that would be g …"

But what it would be, he didn't say as I heard him slump back against the tree and this time I couldn't wake him up. I was just trying to decide if I could manage the two mile walk to raise the alarm and whether leaving him was the right thing to do when I heard something from the top of the slope.

"DiNozzo!" It sounded as if someone was using a bull-horn to magnify the sound.

I might not have been able to wake Tony up but the sound of his name from above had the desired effect.

"On your six, Boss," he muttered sleepily.

"Down here!" I shouted.

A few moments later I saw a stern faced man carefully picking his way down the slope. His face was illuminated by his flash light so that his silver hair looked almost like a halo as he came to our rescue. At that moment I was prepared to think he was a guardian angel. I had picked up that Tony might have doubts about what his team thought about him but it was clear to me (and I'm a good observer) that he was important to them.

"Boss guy?" I said.

The silver haired man looked puzzled for a moment but then nodded.

"McGee! Ducky! Down here, watch your step!"

I realised that I had doubted the existence of Tony's team but that doesn't mean I wasn't glad to see them as they took control of the situation.

"Hey, Boss," said Tony as he woke up again, "I think that fake leather jacket guy is pretending to be a vegetarian."

"Good job, DiNozzo, good job," said Gibbs fondly.

Tony smiled and went back to sleep.

Runner guy

I woke up in the hospital. How did that happen? Last thing I remembered was telling Park Ranger guy about the team and then suddenly I'm warm, dry and cosy in a hospital bed.

"Hey," came a voice to my left.

"Park Ranger guy!" I said happily, "what happened?"

"Haven't we done this before?" he asked a bit peevishly.

"Sorry. Originality isn't a priority after the day I've had."

"Your Boss happened," said Chris simply.

"Got a break in the case," said Gibbs materialising from behind a curtain, "called you. You didn't answer. Went to your apartment. Your neighbour said you'd gone out running and not come back. Went to the park and shouted for you."

"And _that's_ how you give a report," I said turning to Chris. "Told you he'd find us. Thanks, Boss."

"Just relieved you hadn't hooked up with a homicidal maniac," said Gibbs, "makes a change."

"What?" asked Chris.

"Going for coffee," announced Gibbs and disappeared. He then poked his head back round the curtain, "broken arm, sprained ankle and concussion, Tony."

"OK, Boss."

"Take tomorrow off," said Gibbs before really going.

I heard a splutter from Chris, "What did he mean 'homicidal maniac'?"

"Ah," I said, "that's a long story. Actually, it's lots of long stories. Let's just say our team isn't always lucky. How long have you got?"

It's odd how quickly people get this long suffering look on their faces when they get to know me but I'm sure Park Ranger guy is interested really. Well, I think so.

* * *

 _AN: decided to let them off the hook and not go into yet another chapter. Thank you to everyone who has read, followed, favorited or reviewed the latest escapade. The characters are back in their boxes._


End file.
